The Matrix

Pardon me a little vent, if you would please. Why does my mother have to be so fucking crazy? Why is it that Jesus wants her so very bonkers?

I was raised by people who seem suspicious of happiness and of anyone who wants it. In fact, I have a deeply ingrained reaction against desire. Wanting must somehow be wicked, my subconscious tells me.

When I talk to my mother, somehow I repeatedly forget that I can't ever tell her anything without her weeping, infuriating me, and talking about Jesus before disclaiming responsibility for any thought whatsoever. Today I attempted foolishly to relate how I've been feeling, which is, as you know if you read this, NOT GOOD. To boil down the conversation:

ME: I hurt worse than I ever have, having lost the most important thing in my life and being consumed with grief. [RETURN]

MOM: Jesus doesn't want us to be selfish. [RETURN]

ME: Argh! Why do I tell you anything, you insane ignorant martyr!

[Pause]

ME: [DELETE DELETE DELETE DELETE DELETE DELETE DELETE]

ME: Thanks for the advice, Mom. Gotta go. Love you. [RETURN]

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Thank goodness for Yahoo Messenger. It's like life with a rewind button.